fbpx

May/June 2004

The Last Red Flag

I started out the window, looking onto the surging crowds with sadness and fear. I had always known the revolution might happen—as if my brother, Anton, would ever let us forget. He was always out on the streets, socializing with the revolutionaries, showing me the small red flags he brought home. It seemed he enjoyed […]

You . . . and Your Dad

Traveling the interstate routes With no sense of direction Following no road map Traveling only by the lay of the land Going on only because Of the love of the land You and your dad You, a curly-haired toddler Without even the knowledge To put the right shoes on the right feet Listening to Willie […]

Ode to Marbles

I love the sound of marbles scattered on the worn wooden floor, like children running away in a game of hide-and-seek. I love the sight of white marbles, blue marbles, green marbles, black, new marbles, old marbles, iridescent marbles, with glass-ribboned swirls, dancing round and round. I love the feel of marbles, cool, smooth, rolling […]